"Now-ness" in the Garden

The garden resets our clocks.

Slowly, slowly.

Steps along its “suchness” paths.

Now ... now ... now…. NOW.

Descending Washington Park

Rambled this November afternoon in Washington Park.

Wound down Wildwood Trail (leaf-strewn, color-splashed wild woods — indeed).

Japanese Garden.

Low, late autumn sun casts shadows across stone garden paths. Volunteers prepare exhibit of woven bamboo in the Tea House. One shuts the door. “Sorry. Come back tomorrow.”

Descend through the International Rose Test Garden of a few, faded, still fragrant roses. Pass a plodding, earnest Great Dane puppy. Full-grown, immense feet. “Five-months-old,” says the owner. "Come back tomorrow," I think.

Happen on, visit and linger in the dark, immense agony of the Oregon Holocaust Memorial. Cautionary epic tragedic history etched on its black granite slabs.

Down, down past an idle BMW dealership to Goose Hollow.

Catch the MAX train on the verge of its plunge into the mountain. It rumbles through blackness. Commuters read mysteries in the dark.

Zoo Station. Up the elevator with three smart-assed, foul-mouthed teens. Mercifully brief ascent. Back to the trailhead lot and my waiting car. Home.

Gifts

From Portland's Japanese Garden:

An Awakening

Lisa Lynch’s photos (See yesterday’s post, "Heavenly Training") inspired me to scoot on my trusty Milano scooter over to the Portland Japanese Garden late this afternoon with my little Olympus Stylus tucked in my pocket.

Four hours later as I was downloading the photos, the thought that kept occurring to me as I edited them was that it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that these photos should look this good with so little effort on my part.

It wasn’t fair that you might judge me to have some photographic talent. The talent is all the gardeners’, the garden designers’ and nature’s.

Where can you look in the Japanese Garden and NOT find inspiration and beauty?

It wasn’t fair that it was all so easy to bring home and share these shots.

Not fair?

Such a strange thought. We should rejoice together at our good fortune to be able to visit such a place.

I also thought of all those models or actors whom photographers or cinematographers say “love the camera.”

The Japanese Garden “loves the camera.” The feeling is mutual.

At times I thought my little camera would melt in my hands from what it was seeing.

The camera survived. And so did the photos.

Tonight I’m posting just three photos. Even before the visitor enters the garden proper and pays $8 (An awakening for $8!), this is what you see.

Imagine!

Tomorrow, I’ll share with you the sublimity inside the garden gate — as I saw it through my camera.

"Crying out loud" meets the Japanese Garden

One of the students in my Portland Community College writing class, Lisa Lynch, tends an attractive blog, "fer crying out loud." I've added it to the Red Electric's list of links.

Her current topic is her training to become a Japanese Garden tour guide. She has graced her description with photos of Portland's garden. Need I say more? Hie thee to her site.

The very thought of being a Japanese Garden tour guide has life-altering allure. If the Red Electric ever goes blank one day, you will know where to find me. I'll be leading tours in the Japanese Garden — either in Washington Park or the Great Beyond.

Haiku: Less takes longer

The Portland Japanese Garden's Haiku contest (alert: deadline Oct. 8) inspired me to try my hand at this minimalist verse.

That old caution, "I'd have written less if I had more time," certainly applies.

It so happens I found time — deep in the night.

The two haiku that follow took three hours to write. At 34 syllables, that works out to more than five minutes per syllable.

Here's what the time produced:

Chosen forest trail,
Sure as bark and root and map,
Turns — and disappears.


• • •


Off shore, a rogue wave
Fells a granite monolith
As I comb the beach.